Alternate Plans

In October, Aaron has some time off from work. I told him I'd take him to London, as he has never been overseas for fun (just for Uncle Sam). But check your calendars ladies and gents! It's nearly the end of May and our dear boy has yet to get a passport.
So!
Alternate plans are being considered. I've sent away for travel brochures to some US locations, because whether or not we go to London, we have to give Adrian over to the grandparents for a week. A week without a 6 am wake up "Mama!", a week without my life revolving around the schedule of the tiny tot! Clearly I cannot sit at home--the silence would be soul-crushing. If the much needed passport is not obtained, we will still be going somewhere. Or, I can go and Aaron can stay here.

Baby house, weekends, and yelling too.

Baby prison? No! Baby House! Which Adrian pronounces "haus". Followed by "Nana"(provider of house) and "Ank Oo" (Thank you). He's recently started saying "thanks" without prompting (it happens 30% of the time), but it sounds like "angst". Either he needs to work on his diction or he's terribly precocious. (Egads! He's a teen already!)

The main attractions of the baby house are as follows: he can move it with minimal assistance, it's an excellent spot for hide-and-seek (as well as hide-and-poop), he can look out the windows while declaring "peek!", and it has funny little drawings of ladybugs all over it.
We'll see how long the love affair lasts. (Hopefully years)

It was a life saver on Sunday when everybody(my mom, Aaron's parents, and Aaron) left. There were only a few tears and they were from me (yes, I'm a big giant crybaby. Let's move on)
My mom's visit was fun, although the weather was MISERABLE. Forty degrees and rainy the whole time. Adrian calls her "Guh" for Grandma, and spent most of his time telling her to sit and/or watch. There's no doubt that he's the Little Emperor.

Yesterday he was standing on one of the dining room chairs and I asked him to sit (repeatedly). So I finally said (loudly) SIT! DOWN! his response : AAAAA! AAAAAAA!
I laughed so hard I couldn't breathe. It was unexpected, and I found it really funny that he thought that would pass muster as a convincing argument in his favor.
After I was done with the laughing and the wiping of eyes, I said "that was really funny, but I still need you to sit"
And he did.
Mystery.

Pictures for yous guys.

Not much to say--hey-hey-hey.
My mom gets in tonight for a brief stay and I'm super excited. I even bought flowers.
There's still cleaning to be done (surprise, surprise) and curtains to be hung (surprise, surprise).

But enough of the balr-de-blar from me. Go to Flickr and check out the new pictures.

Blogger was too slow with the uploading today.

Translation. Adrian to English.

Here it is, an up-to-date users guide to the subtle and nuanced language of Adrian (or what one childless friend refered to as inane baby burble--wait till you have your own and then you'll see how far from inane it is)

In no particular order:

Adrianese: English

Ba : Ball
Buh: Book, Bird, Burt (from Sesame Street or Mary Poppins)
BaBa: Bottle (although this is a universal one)
Bach: Lunchbox (our cat)
Aaa: Jack (the other cat)
Ti tees: Kitties
Eeeee : Eat
Na nan: Lawn Mower
Hecah: Helicopter
Tutuck: Dump truck
Sigh : Outside
Duhstes: Downstairs
Cow: Cloud
Moo : Cow
Up : Up
App: Apple, Apricot
Coo: Cool
Fa : Far
Fwoe: Throw
Keet : Kitchen
Chay : Chair
Tash : Trash
Durt : Dirt
Wheee: Playground
Wawa : Wagon
Wawer: Water
Tee : Tea, Tree
Bi Bur: Big Bird
Emoe : Elmo
Oss : Oscar the Grouch
Goger: Grover

Most of these are words and signs, especially in the instance where one sound may mean two things. It's fairly clever how he's training us to communicate.
That's all for now. Stay tuned for further installments.

Update:18 months

Dear Adrian;

Congratulations! You're a year and a half! At which point your father would interject: only 16 and a half to go.
I believe that it is fully appropriate to crown you with the title of toddler. You walk, run, dance (including the MC Hammer side-to-side dance taught to you by your father), and do the splits. You're interested in everything, which is fun to watch but provides unpleasant side effects such as the inability to leave the house in under 20 minutes, the refusal to sit in the grocery cart, and the desire to explore the personal space of strangers. Especially strangers with hats.

Your vocabularly expands daily with the most recent additions of Iowa, business, and Dude. Iowa is courtesy of your Granpa Gary who is bound and determined to see you go to the University of Iowa (you also know Herky, and can say Hawkeye), who spent the past weekend teaching you to play catch and say Iowa. Business came about because you were calling for Granpa and I told you "he'll be right back, he's taking care of business" You then looked at me and said "bissbiz". Now it's how we describe anyone who is off doing something in which you cannot participate: Nana's cooking? Nana's business. Dad's smoking a pipe? Dada's business.
And Dude! You've said "dude" before, but now Dude applies to the one and only Jim King. You think Dude is pretty cool, as he will chase you around the yard and play catch. I also think that this increases his cool factor by a million.

Your eating habits are becoming heavily influenced by the word "no".
Me: Adrian, would you like chicken or a hot dog?
You: No.
Me: How about peaches or a banana?
You: No.
Me: A cracker?
You: No.
Me: noodles?
You: No.
Me: what do you want?
You: (sign language for eat)
Me: you want to eat?
You: No. (while trying to climb into high chair)

I'm going to stop giving you choices if you keep this up.

It's very funny to watch you grow and change. Every day you move a little closer to adulthood, all the while pushing me a little closer to the edge of my patience. I understand that this is normal, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. My least favorite is when you pretend that you can't hear me so that you can continue doing something I've just told you not to.
I recently discovered that no ammount of explaining can prevent you from pitching a fit when you've decided to do so. This time in your life has also introduced me to a crucial point in my life: learning to divert my temper. I have a fierce temper, and I spend many moments counting to ten or taking deep breaths. I'll say that this is the most difficult aspect of parenting--I try to model "cool, calm, and collected" so that you may one day be able to do the same. I want you to know that it's okay to feel angry, but it's not okay to take that feeling out on someone else. I try hard to show you that your feelings matter, that some days aren't all sunshine and marshmellows, and that no matter how many fits you throw or how many times I tell you no my love for you doesn't waiver.

Love,
Mama

more signs of spring

The choke cherry tree in our back yard--
heavenly scented delicate blossoms.

signs of spring

iced tea!


shirtless baby!

Eggs n' such

We're home, and I am pooped. And about 2 days behind on my to-do list.
I figured at the very least I should get some photos up for those of you who couldn't come and play last weekend.
This one here is a teaser. You can find the rest over at Flickr.
Adrian has his 18 month check up on Thursday, so I'll definately fill y'all in after that.
Tomorrow I need to spend all of my free time in the studio.
Squeezes all around.

mundane.

Monday, yesterday, was Adrian's second music class. He was excited this time, and seemed to catch on quickly. He was also eager for praise from our instructor, Ms. Sarah. When he got the hang of something he'd leave my lap and march right up to Ms. Sarah to show her that he totally knew what was what. I found it funny to watch him interact with the other kids, to walk away from me and assume that I would be there when he turned around. It was nice, but kind of sad--as much as I complain about him hanging on me, I also enjoy being the ultimate comforter and boo-boo fixer. Watching him befriend others and feel comfortable in a new setting made me realize how temporary this phase in his life is. Sigh. On the other hand, it looks like he's ready to take on the world...maybe as supreme ruler, with marshmellows for all.
This photo is especially for Granpa--see the Hawkeye's pants? Adrian's choice. Indoctrination complete. (Cue fight song)
And here is evidence that he is getting taller, if not gaining any weight (23 pounds and holding, baby!) Those are feety pajamas. Minus feet, as I can't zip them up when the feet are attched--previously they used to trail after him down the hall, making him look as though he was reenacting scenes from Stephen King's Misery. (I can't read King novels anymore. Haven't been able to since early adolescence, really. They give me perpetual heebie jeebies).

Today we took a jaunt down to the health food store to get more Rice Milk for Adrian. Then we came home and played in the yard, until we noticed our neighbor (Teenie) out washing her car. In an effort to be neighborly, we went over and struck up a conversation. And then we wound up caravaning down to the food pantry and I have an appointment to get set up as a regular client next week. Because as Teenie says "it's not about being poor--it's about putting your money to better use".
Teenie says a lot of things.

Sunday.

Any day is a good day to play with some jewelry. Adrian especially enjoys bracelets, as they can be worn on the arm or the foot.
See how well he smiles for the camera? Also, I have to tell you, I am loving my new camera. (Cannon Powershot S2 IS) A good digiCam is one of the joys of life.
One last photo of the bejeweled wonder.
Tomorrow is music class! And now that I know where the joint is located-- tucked in the back of the stripmall, up the hill, completely invisible from the road--I anticipate less squirming from the A-man. Of course I'll still have to listen to him pull at his car seat straps and demand "out! out!" for the majority of the ride. He'll quiet down for a verse or two of "the wheels on the bus", but I can only come up with so many noises a bus can make. Maybe tomorrow there will be hippos on the bus....

Mountaineer Flecker

So when I talk about Adrian being a crazy, climbing monkey I'm not exaggerating. Here is photographic proof :Step one: climb into basket of clean laundry. (Also note that mom and dad could use some extra storage space for that giant pile of clean linens in the background)
Step two: hoist self onto bed, using foot rail as leverage.
Step three: smile pretty for the camera.
It's not just the bed. It's anywhere, everywhere all day long.

That's why I was hoping to burn some of this energy off with playdates (went fine, but J is almost 4, not almost 3 as I had thought), Gymboree music class (he was a little intimidated at first, but seemed to get the hang of it), and Story time at the library. There's no verdict yet on any of it, other than all that stuff wears me out.

Update: 17 months

Dear A-man;

Taa-daah! You're 17 months old and for your 17-month-day you got an ear infection! Pretty crappy present, I know. This has not deterred you from playing outside in the 60 degree weather, or pointing out babies everywhere we go.

Your curiousity has become insatiable, nearly surpassing your need to climb things. You explore everything within arm's reach, and your dad has taught you a new phrase to apply to things that are suitably impressive: cool, dude.

Yesterday we went to the library for your first story hour. You were much more interested in arranging (and rearranging) the name tags than you were in the story. There were 2 other babies your age present and the three of you took turns passing markers and nametags back and forth, as well as pointing out the Sesame Street characters on one another's clothing. It was your first interaction with people your own size and I think it went well. I've also signed you up for a music class at the local Gymboree, and we have our first play date coming up on Sunday. (Which we may have to cancel depending on how you feel)
It's spring, and you and I need to get out and do things!
You've started singing on your own this month and I have to tell you that I love it. You sing for no reason and you sing no discernable tune, but it always involves a bit of sticking your tongue out and waving your arms around. The arm-waving you picked up from Harry Belefonte's performance on the Muppet Show...which you request by holding the DVD and saying "day"(for Day-Oh) over and over. You also enjoy watching John Denver sing "Inch by Inch", which you refer to as "by".
Now that the weather has started to warm up a bit, I try to take you outside twice a day. You dig in the dirt with sticks and your fingers, you roll the ball down the hill, open and close the garden gate to hear the squeak, and we play peek-a-boo by chasing each other around the tree in the back yard. You also try to walk yourself down to the park on occasion, and are really indignant when I won't let you go on your own.
You also have a new bed time as befitting your big-boy status. Seven o'clock is the new "nigh-nigh" time and it seems to be working--you actually sleep until 5:50 instead of 5:30. Those 20 minutes make a world of difference--to me. But the later bedtime makes cooking dinner a little more akward, as we are busy with your dinner, bath, and bed time ritual from 5-7. The upside is that you now get to see Dada on work nights, and he brushes your teeth and reads your bed time story. It's good for both of you.
And now my tired brain is winding down towards a nap. I love you, little boy.
Love,
Mama

Found you!

What with all of the snot and crankiness, you'd think we'd be virtual slugs around here--but no. Adrian has kept me busy, busy, busy while Aaron spends his days at work.
The little man has kept both of us entertained with his swank dancing skills and his new-found love of singing. He has also upped the activity level of peek-a-boo by turning it into a sort of hide-and-seek; he'll tell you "peek" and then run down the hall and into his room. At this point you're supposed to duck behind a piece of furniture, and when he comes toddling by yell "peek" and then catch him before he falls down from laughing.

And then there's the mastery of a new phrase : no no. He learned it from the KT Tunstall song "Black Horse and the Cherry Tree"; this means that he doesn't say it so much as sing it. Which has it's own charm.

And call me an unfit mother, but I let Adrian play in the cat food. He stirs it. Or he'll spoon it from one side of the bowl to the other--it's one of those double-feeders. I also let him play in the cat water...which he tries to drink using a measuring spoon. I'm not so keen on the ingesting of the cat-water, but you should see how very enthralled he is playing "kitchen" for the cats. The new plan is to get him a little play-stove so he can cook while I cook...rather than hang off my leg while I cook.

And I apologize for the lack of photos but I am through with using the video camera to get still shots. I finally bought a digital camera and it is scheduled to arrive next week. I've got ants in my pants over the excitement of it.
Although not actual ants in my pants because I've had that before and it's really quite awful. Especially when you're 19 and have to strip down to your underoos in front of a whole mess of boys who live in your dorm because you just can't stand the agony any longer. Pain and embarrassment--double score!

A bed time story

Adrian's bed time routine starts with a bath (or tubby, as it's known around here), then he gets dressed while watching Baby Einstein, then we brush his teeth (all 8 of them), say good night to the cats and Dada. At this point we go into his room, shut the door, turn on the white noise machine and Adrian picks out 2 books for me to read before he gets into bed.

As I was getting ready to read Adrian his bed time story tonight; he approached me with his book of choice, leaned in real close and whispered "pee pees".

I paused. This isn't something we normally discuss prior to bed, so I was momentarily confused.

Then aha! "Adrian, did you go pee-pees? Do you need me to change your diaper?"
He nods yes, the diaper is changed, and we go on with our routine.

Could it be time to talk about toilet training? Doesn't he seem young for that?

Big smiles

DSC00012
Originally uploaded by kdecarlo.

We're home, and a sick mucusy mess are we.

We flew in Sunday, and by Monday we were filling tissues and hacking up phlegm nuggets. (how's that for a mental image?)
The trip home was only slightly less scarring than the trip out. We got our bags checked in without a problem, then headed over to the security check point. While waiting in line--literally 2 people away from the metal detecor--Adrian peed on me. Twice. I had him sitting on my hip and all of a sudden, my side felt very very warm. And all I could think was "oh. no." Because in the diaper bag of doom I had a complete change of clothes for him, while I had to dry my shirt out as best I could under the hand dryer in the ladies room. And the pee-pee pants? I threw them out. I wasn't in the mood to haul around a zip-loc bag with urine soaked pants inside.
So we get on the plane and we're in a seat next to someone--in the window side, and I can not get the attention of the flight attendants to see if we can move to one of the very very empty rows in back. So the whole flight, Adrian is squirming and kicking the lady next to us, who was very understanding--bless her soul.
Then we land in Chicago--20 minutes early and there's no sign of Aaron. And Adrian is going "Dada? Dada? Da? da?" b/c I told him that when we got off the plane, we'd see Dada. Aaron shows up at the time we were supposed to land, and my suitcase doesn't show up at all. They've failed to put it on the plane. Ergo, United I quit you. That's 2 times out of the past 3 that you've deemed my belongings not important enough to put on the plane.
And now my nose needs a kleenex and I need some hot tea.
Travel has kicked me in the teeth.

Update: 16 months (and a few days)

It's not that I forgot, it's just that there's no February 29th.

Dear A,

This month has been full of the very many cute things you have decided to master: throwing things in the trash (by request), picking up after yourself, organizing your toys just so, kissing the cats goodnight, climbing up onto our bed to watch the trucks on the highway, and finding a new favorite movie (Harry Potter & the sorcerer's Stone). There's also been the not-so-cute things we have had to endure: the screaming, flailing fits (complete with self-induced head trauma!); the flinging food to the floor to indicate the end of a meal, grinding crackers into the carpet using your heels, your insistence on repeating a behavior after we have told you 'no'. And the be-all, end-all that has led to this month's weaning: biting my nipples and then laughing when I say "no". Injuring people is not funny, especially when people is me.

But for the most part you are a delightful little boy. You enjoy stomping around the house to find the spot that makes the most noise. You enjoy collecting sticks in the back yard, front yard, side walk, and pretty much anywhere sticks can be found.
You now have your own jewelry box and delight in putting on necklaces and bracelets and looking at yourself in the mirror. You enjoy hats--wearing them, putting them on us, other people in them--our trip through airport was a running tally on who had a hat and who didn't.
You love children and especially babies--I realize that's common at this age, but it's so darn cute to watch your face light up when you see other kids.

You're trying so hard to communicate with us, and for the most part we understand you, but every now and then you utter a long sting of single syllables and look at us expectantly. Sorry, but I didn't get that last part? Was it da bur dl gk or da bur dl tuk? Not that either means anything to me.

Right now we're visiting your grandparents in DC and they are loving every minute of it. Tonight at dinner you were in full dinner-theater mode and had your Grandma laughing out loud. You make me laugh at least once a day, and I love when I can do the same for you.

I am grateful to have you in my life you funny little man.

Love,
Mama

PS--thanks for finally saying Mama--it makes the tough times a little easier.

the gods must be crazy

Or I was past due.
Holee crap-today was the worst travel day I've ever had--worse that the time that I had to be re-booked and re-routed twice because I missed connecting flights. Worse than that time i drove back to Roanoke from Birmingham and someone peed in my car while we were sitting in Knoxville traffic. Worse than that time we went to the beach and got into a car accident on the side of the car where I was all curled up sleeping, peaceful-like. Worse than...
Okay. You get the idea.
I've traveled a lot. I like to travel--it's an excellent opportunity to test your comfort zone, try new things, and make lists (and boy-howdy do I love those lists!)
I take it as a given that with all of this travel, there will be a few rough trips. But today I found where the deep dark chasm of my patience ends. Today I thought "maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to leave Adrian on this plane"
Let's start our day at 6AM, per usual. Everyone gets up, gets dressed, Aaron makes coffee, changes & dresses Adrian, and I pack all of Adrian's sleepy-time possesions.

6:50AM-we're out the door. 5 minutes behind schedule, but nobody's sweating.
We manage to hit nearly every red light and fail to factor in going-to-work traffic. But that only adds 10 minutes to our journey.

7:35AM--we arrive at Midway, check in, check our bags, get boarding passes, blar-de-dar, easy peasy.

7:45AM--we go through security.

8AM--we get to our gate, and I troll Adrian down to the bathroom for a diaper change. He HATES diaper changes in public bathrooms. There needs to be a rehaul of diaper changing stations, complete with soft music, babycentric TVs nestled into the walls, and NO toilets that flush louder than Niagara Falls.

8:10AM--an announcement is made--the doom begins! Our plane has been diverted to O'Hare because of Fog conditions (damn you, fog), so we all need to make new arrangements. The lovely ticketing agents procure new flights, boarding passes and travel vouchers for us, so that we can take the shuttle from Midway to O'Hare. We have to go and procure our bags from the carousel and take them with us.

9AM--the shuttle leaves for O'Hare. Adrian quickly loses his interest in his carseatless journey and wants to wander about the van. As you can imagine, that was the biggest no-go ever.

9:45AM--arrive at O'Hare. I have to check this g-dforsaken suitcase because I cannot manage it and Adrian. I ask a ticket agent what do I do? I already have a boarding pass I just need to check this bag? I am directed to a self-check-in station. It doesn't work. I already have a boarding pass. I ask for help. I am told to try again. Meanwhile Adrian has decided to play: befriend the stranger. I yell at him to "COME! HERE!" in public. Without shame. I should mention at this point he's removed his shoes and socks and is a barefoot baby. I cannot get the accursed machine to help me. I give up and proceed to security, figuring I'll check the damned bag plane side. The security lady tells me they won't do that here and that I HAVE to check the suitcase. Back down the line I go, back around the corner, hauling Adrian who has decided that this is a good time to go limp. I am telling him that he has to help me and hold on when a service rep spots me and asks if I'd like a trolley. No, I tell her, I want to talk to a real person who can help me. I get my wish! I talk to Jeremy, who checks my bag lickety-split (I now harbor a secret crush on Jeremy for his can-do attitude and willingness to assist me).
Back through security we go, back through the diaper change routine, to our boarding area-where Adrian eats applesauce and charms old ladies and men in uniform.
10:54AM--we board the plane. For those of you familiar with Adrian's schedule, you'll realize that we are now 6 minutes away from nap time. Since he was not wearing a watch, Adrian mistook nap time for crazy-time. He fussed, fidgeted, pooped, screamed, and cried. Dee-lightful. And then, when we had landed, he rested his head against me and fell asleep. In that cute, super-exhausted way they do so that you can smell that little-kid smell wafting up from their hair and your heart melts and all is forgiven.
He slept until we walked through the doors at baggage claim. A total of 15 minutes.
ANd he was awake until he went to bed.
It was a looooong day.
ANd now I am going to bed.
please pardon all punctuationa nd spelling errors--I am too tired to proof.

This thing on my neck...

the, waddaya call it? head?
head!
right.
So, my head hasn't been functioning at 100% lately. Things keep falling out of it. More specifically, I can't remember who I've told and who I haven't told that Adrian and I will be in Northern Virginia next week.
Tuesday through Sunday. As in we leave Sunday.
So there it is, internets. The datebook is now open, and I will be scheduling fun at your leisure.

smell the domesticity

Aaron is upstairs cooking pulgoki...
(deep inhale)
mmmmmmmmm.

life, she is good!

Evil! and then not so evil...

Things I hate:
programs what install themselves on your computer and then refuse to be moved to the recycle bin.

Whoever is responsible for the abomination known as the search engine Zango should be drawn and quartered. Or at least made to stand in tapioca pudding on a hot day near a nest of quizzical bees.

Things I love:
Adrian's laugh. It comes all the way up from his toes.
The smell of peonies. (heaven)
New tubes of paint!
Lists. (see?)
Eating pappadums. (crunch-crunch-crunch)
Iced tea the way my mom makes it.
The smell of kittens...puppies, too.
Goofing up song lyrics by replacing one word for another (Example: Lords of Acid's Pussy. Replace pussy with puppy. Much funnier! )
Muppets. (even sell-out Pizza Hut Muppets)

Things what make me nervous:
Squealing tires
Bees
Running with pointy things (sticks, forks, knives, scissors)
packing for trips
airports

things you should do at least once before you die:
visit a foreign country
fly first class
climb a tree
watch the sun come up
hold the door for a stranger
bring your mom flowers
have cake for breakfast
cuddle a puppy